


downsizing

by peachyteabuck



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Mobster Bucky, angst if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 12:57:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16854379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachyteabuck/pseuds/peachyteabuck
Summary: a snapshot in the life of some newly-rich newly-weds





	downsizing

Both you and Bucky grew up extremely poor. 

Poverty was something you were able to, ironically, bond over when you first started dating. Shared stories of meals prepared from nothing, of clothes that had to have been older than dirt somehow able to be kept new, of the sacrifices your parents made to make sure you never had to do what they did. You two mocked rich kids who knew nothing of hardship, who didn’t knew how to sew a button onto a shirt - let alone make a tablecloth or new garment from scratch. It was one of the things that made you fall so hard for him, that you were able to have such a large part of you in common.

When he married you, Bucky promised to give you the lavish life he had always dreamed of. Big house, maids, never having to worry about money, never having to do anything you didn’t want to, everything and anything you ever wanted - no questions or elaborate reason why necessary. And sure, that  _sounded_ nice. In the abstract, never working a day in your life was all you ever wanted. When you were busting your ass in college full time while working full time (sleep, never heard of her) - being able to do absolutely  _nothing_ sounded amazing.

But then it actually happened. Bucky joined some mob or gang or whatever he found out while working at his mechanics job a few streets down. Now he’s like…the leader who makes a bunch of money each year and is able to provide the life he always wanted to give you. The problem (which, when you put it like that, doesn’t really sound like a  _problem_ ) is that this sort of  _isn’t what you wanted._ You’re a simple woman who takes pride in being the best housewife possible. Somehow, weirdly enough, owning a giant house there’s no way in Hell you can clean and always having someone else there to do everything for is…demoralizing. You quitting your minimum wage fast food job was great, but only added to your misery as you began to spend all day doing what qualifies as absolutely nothing.

In short, you’re in anguish..

Bucky doesn’t really notice, he’s too giddy from finally having enough to money to support you and him with ease and too busy being a mob boss to really pay attention to his wife. You don’t really bring it up, either. Your breaking points ends up being about eight months after you first move into your giant house, when Bucky suggests moving into an even  _bigger_ property.

“Just think!” Bucky exclaims gleefully. “We’ll have more room for…” He goes on and one and you just sigh, not saying anything. He’s currently pacing around your shared bedroom while you sit on the bed, reading some novel you don’t really care about.  He stops and turns you, concerned. “What is it, babe?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, it’s just…” you sigh again. “Do we  _need_ more room?”

Bucky doesn’t move, just stares at you with his brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean? Don’t you want  _more_?”

“More what?” You ask, pulling your knees to your chest. “We already have a lot of room as it is…what else is it we need?”

It’s then that Bucky gets an inkling that something is wrong. You can tell as he moves to sit next to you on the bed that he sort of understands that you’re unhappy.  _Better late than never._ “Baby…is there something wrong? You can talk to me, you know that…right?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip, debating whether to tell him or not. A knot forms in your chest and fat tears threaten to leak out of your eyes as you speak, “I just…I don’t really like living in a big house,” Bucky’s furrowed eyebrows scrunch even closer. “I want to downsize,” you explain. “And I don’t want any maids, or cooks, or whatever. I want to run my house with just you and I and I want to do everything myself and-”

Bucky cuts you off, pulling you into his chest. “And you feel like me paying other people to do work you makes you a bad homemaker.” You nod. Now Bucky’s the one to sigh. “I’m sorry, I just…” He shakes his head. “My mom always wanted a giant house with servants and stuff, you know? And me assuming that’s what you wanted, too, was…it was wrong. I’m sorry.”

It’s then you start crying, leaving a giant wet stain in the center of his old, grey shirt. “It’s okay, I just-” A choked sob cuts you off. Bucky rubs your back, which helps coax the words from you. “It’s okay. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“I’m sorry for not noticing,” he says, face coated in concern. “Let’s agree to just tell each other our feelings from now on. Deal?”

You laugh lightly, then sniffle. “Deal.” You move back under Bucky’s arms, where you two rock and forth a little. The movements are comforting, and neither of you speak for awhile.

Bucky’s the one to break the silence. “When do you want to start house hunting?”

You bite your lip, trying to sound as innocent as possible. “Well, I might have already started looking…”

Bucky laughs deep in his chest. “Okay babe, why don’t we start  _together_ tomorrow, okay?”

You nod, laughing. “I’m okay with that.”


End file.
